


Funeral

by IsthisthereallifenoitsjustJeremy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, basically focuses on Stiles and Derek, by "the pack" i mean Erica Isaac and Boyd, i don't usually write more than 2k but when i do its horrible depressing angst, literally cried while writing this, not so short drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsthisthereallifenoitsjustJeremy/pseuds/IsthisthereallifenoitsjustJeremy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ohh-oh no you don’t, sourwolf.” Stiles crowed, “Just because we’re dating does not mean you get to evade the consequences of making stupid decisions as alpha! You seriously have to be more care-”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> There are actually no words that i can use to excuse myself, nor do i plan on excusing myself. This idea was born around 3am and i cried myself to sleep after getting it written down. Sorry, please forgive me, read on.
> 
> Edited 3/17/'13  
> -ERH MAH GERD I ACCIDENTALLY PUT "NOT DATING" IN THE FIC I'M SO SORRY THEY'RE TOTALLY DATING I'M JUST STUPID SORRY SORRY ;-;

“Well.” Stiles said, wiping mud, and other nasty, foul things he didn’t want to think about, off his jacket. “I think that could’ve been done more gracefully.” Derek scowled at him, his mood not being helped by the same things that were not to be named or talked about that were on his jacket after killing the… thing.

“Stiles.” He bit out, almost calmly.

“Yeeees?” He extended the vowel sound mockingly. Derek gave him his patented bitchface smile.

“Shut up.”

****

After mostly cleaning themselves of mud and what seemed to be blood and internal organs, they climbed into Stiles’ jeep. Stiles complained about the amount of money he was going to need to clean his jeep, which only made Derek roll his eyes. They lapsed into a tense silence, Derek hunching to avoid the lecture he was expecting from Stiles.

“So did everything go to plan then?” Derek turned to look at Stiles, who was calmly looking at the road, his only indication of anger in the tightening of his grip on the steering wheel. “Cause, obviously, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself at that thing if you didn’t have a plan. I mean, you are our alpha.” He paused, as if to let Derek jump in. When he didn’t, he only gripped the wheel tighter. “Right? I mean, you knew we would all be left defenseless if you had DIED, so of course you had a plan.” This time when he paused, it felt more like a challenge for him to try defending himself. Derek still didn’t say anything and wasn’t surprised when Stiles slammed his hand into the steering wheel. “Damn it, Derek! I thought we were past the whole ‘I am alpha, watch me roar’ shit! And then you pull this stunt with- whatever that was! What was that?!” His jaw clenched and unclenched, a vein pulsing in his forehead, as he tried to keep calm even though his vision was red with rage. The shock and adrenaline were starting to wear off, and he felt tears spring up as he remembered how close it had been, how close Derek could’ve been to dying before he had arrived. He felt Derek’s hand slide under his right on the steering wheel, pulling it off so he could grip it in both of his. Stiles had to turn his head to the side to prevent himself from letting go of the wheel to collapse into the werewolf’s arms, to make sure he was safe.

“I’m sorry.” Derek’s pleading, earnest voice filtered through his red-tinged haze. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d want to follow and if you got hurt…” Derek trailed off and Stiles didn’t know how he was going to end that sentence. “But everything’s okay now.” Derek spoke up again, confidence in his voice. “Stiles, I’m here. I’m okay.” He shook his head, still looking ahead with misty eyes.

“What if you weren’t, Derek? What if I was carrying a corpse home? What would I tell our pack? Who’d take over? God, there’s so many things we depend on you for. We need you. You can’t just go playing the martyr anymore because if you had died, then somebody else would’ve taken over. And they might not be as nice as you are.” Derek only pressed a kiss to his palm, trying to reassure him. Stiles finally let out a wet sounding laugh. Derek raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Ohh-oh no you don’t, sourwolf.” Stiles crowed, making Derek blush only slightly as he shifted uncomfortably. “Just because we’re dating does not mean you get to evade the consequences of making stupid decisions as alpha! We are having a serious talk when we get home. I mean, that thing almost killed you! You seriously have to be more care-”

****

Derek woke gasping in pain, as he felt bones fitting themselves back into place, broken skin stitching itself back together courtesy of werewolf healing. He must’ve been knocked out due to the severity of his injuries when he sees-

“Stiles!” Derek panics, because Stiles is draped awkwardly across the steering wheel in an unnatural position. “Oh fucking shit, Stiles!” He exhales shakily, adrenaline flooding his veins enough that he can’t control his strength as he rips the door off its hinges, sending it crashing several yards away. Reality began filtering in and Derek realizes that they’d just been in a car accident. And Stiles wasn’t moving. Nearly running to the driver’s side, he wrenches the door open, not pulling it off its hinges but causing it to let out a screech as metal crunches, to check on Stiles. “Stiles… Stiles. Stiles!” He crooned, his voice shaky at first before he composed himself, trying to wake the teen. Helplessly, he reached to pick the boy up to pull him out of the wreck of his totaled jeep. As soon as his hands touched him though, Derek could feel debilitating waves of pain wrack his own body. Stiles was in so much pain, it was literally leaping off of him.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the teen again, lifting him gently to place him on the ground, only pausing slightly to secure his grasp so as to not jostle him too much. Absorbing any pain from the lifting, he hoped that Stiles hadn’t felt any more pain than he did already. He still wasn’t responding, his weak pulse and shallow breaths the only indication that he was alive. Derek sat back on his knees over him, hesitating slightly as his mind raced. He knew what would wake Stiles up. Reaching out and hovering a hand over Stiles’ chest, he winced only slightly before pressing his palm with only minimal pressure. He shuddered at the amount of pain he took into himself, his veins pulsing as they pumped the horrible black up his arm into his heart. Heartbeat slowing almost dangerously, he shook himself as Stiles’ eyes began to flutter.

Then his eyes flew open and he hyperventilated, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Derek…” Stiles whined pitifully, sounding for all the world like a lost child. “It hurts” he whimpered, causing Derek to swallow the burn starting in the back of his throat painfully. He knew exactly how to heal him, but also knew that Stiles would never go for it. Except he was dying, Derek thought.

“I- I can fix this. I can make it better. I can heal you.” He allowed his inner wolf into the forefront of his mind, felt his canines start to elongate in preparation to give the bite. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his wrist and the wolf melted into the back of his mind, howling mournfully. There was no more pain coming from Stiles.

“Don’t.” Stiles sighed, his breath rattling. Derek froze, shocked into silence as he tried to convince himself that that wasn’t the death rattle he heard. “Please, Der-” He looked down before dragging his eyes back up to meet Derek’s sluggishly. Derek felt his panic shoot up a couple notches as he realized he could smell the scent he usually associated with dying animals.

“No. No, Stiles, don’t do this to me!” Derek pleaded desperately. He felt his eyes pricking as he blinked back tears furiously. He flashed back to losing his family in the fire, at losing Laura, as he thought of all the times he couldn’t save the people he loved. He couldn’t lose Stiles too; not like this, in something as mundane as a car wreck. But yet, Derek thought fatalistically, it was exactly how Stiles should die: human and normal, at last.

“Derek.” Stiles said, almost calmly. “Just let me go.” A single tear escaped from his right eye as it carved a swath down  his cheek. Derek wiped it away with his thumb, looking deep into amber eyes. He pulled him closer into his arms, cradling his head to his chest as a tear of his own found its way out, landing on Stiles’ red hoodie.  When he felt Stiles’ last breath leave his body and his heart lapse into silence, he bowed his head over the body of the boy he had loved. Gritting his teeth against the pain that felt like his heart was being ripped into pieces, he tightened his hold on Stiles as if trying to draw what had gone out into himself, to keep it safe. Derek held on to the body, trying to keep grounded as his mind kept him in a loop of all the people that had died while he couldn’t save them. He mourned the loss of his human, his anchor, as he realized he would never get to touch him again, never see him smile or be on the receiving end of his hyperactive babble. Never again would he get to see warm amber eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiled at him gently, a smile that was reserved for Derek and Derek only. He would never get any of that again, as he was left behind with only pain and a body, devoid of the person he needed.

****

The funeral was hard. Unbelievably so. John had collapsed in his grief, kneeling by his son’s coffin even as the minister intoned on. Allison had braved the first half of the ceremony before getting up, sobs escaping in gasps as she walked away. Erica had followed, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder before gripping her tight in a hug as Allison wept openly into her shoulder. Jackson and Lydia seemed composed at first glance to those that didn’t know them well. Jackson’s clenched jaw and Lydia’s thousand-yard stare betrayed them, as well as their interlocked hands, both clinging onto the other as if they were the things keeping them anchored to the earth.

After the funeral rites were completed, mourners came up, one by one, to offer words of condolences. John continued to kneel by Stiles’ grave, seemingly unaware of the offered sympathies. Scott came up to stand next to him, placing a steady hand on John’s shoulder in support. Derek stayed seating, even after everybody else besides his pack and John had left. Eventually though, the members of his pack each placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly before they too left. He wanted to pay his respects alone, but felt it was disturbingly disrespectful to do so with Stiles’ father still there. Derek grew numb, remembering how the sheriff had appeared at his side as he held Stiles’ body, saying that help was on the way, that somebody had called the paramedics. He had seen how the sheriff had recognized his own son’s body, his eyes filling with tears as he shook his head in denial. Stiles had rarely talked about it, but Derek had gathered that John had lost his wife when Stiles had been just a baby. And now,  John was alone.

Rising from his seat to leave, he looked back to see John and Scott both clinging to each other, the muffled sounds of crying drifting over to him. He knew that they’d still be there for a long time. He went back to the train station, where his betas were making themselves scarce. They left him alone in his mourning, and for that Derek was grateful. He laid on the cold ground until he could go to pay his respects in privacy, the silence in the station almost deafening. Sleep avoided him, until finally he felt that enough time had passed and set off for the cemetery.

Standing over Stiles’ grave, Derek could still smell the scent of freshly uncovered earth and his breath caught in his throat. It hadn’t really sunk in until Derek stood there, that the boy he had loved was now buried six feet under the ground he now stood on. The realization brought him to his knees, despair bubbling up into his chest, and he let out a pain-filled howl, miserable and piercing in its grief. He heard five responding howls, equally as pain-filled yet lacking something in Derek’s ears. Derek tapered off into a keening sob, collapsing onto his side next to the headstone. His mind conjured up the image of Stiles lying beside him in his bed one random morning, his sleep-softened eyes slowly opening before he smiled unguardedly at Derek, as if pleasantly surprised that Derek was there. He reached out unthinkingly and the illusion was dispelled as his fingers touched slightly damp earth.

Jerking back slightly, horrified, Derek scrambled up and away from the grave. Staring at the dirt, he felt his face begin to crumple as he choked back a sob building up in his throat. Stiles was really gone, and nothing was going to save him or bring him back. He went up to the headstone, his claws extending as he did so, and he scratched a triskele onto the front of it, clearly visible even in the dim light of the crescent moon. Derek then walked away, even though his wolf was howling. For what, Derek didn’t know. He did know, however, that sleep would be denied to him that night. Most likely for many nights after. Without Stiles, Derek knew he would never be able to find that elusive peace he had been searching for, peace that he could’ve had with Stiles. Even though he knew he had to survive this for his pack, he would never again be truly able to live with Stiles not by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SORRY ;-;
> 
> tumblr- isthisthereallifenoitsjustjeremy


End file.
